A Childhood dream, a Childhood lost
by Ice Jazz Elleth
Summary: "Everything is going to be fine" Daddy said, his face full of worry. The seven year old regarded him. "Daddy, it does seem that most people manage to survive." Mycroft pointed out, knowing not to use his wider range of vocabulary at this point.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is about Sherlock's life before the series. **

**I had this idea due to a roleplaying site that I am on and play Sherlock. **

**The story will most likely focus on the relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft and how they became archenemies as well as what led Sherlock down the path to become the world's only Consulting Detective.**

**And here is the story:**

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**Chapter One**

Mycroft, age seven, sat in the hospital, his legs swinging nervously as he waited with his father. Six months ago, he had been informed that he was going to have a younger sibling. Of course, this had been no surprise to the boy, simple observations had led him to come to this conclusion. Although his parents were not aware of it, Mycroft had been perfecting his observations, so he could deduce information from his surroundings. It proved to be useful for keeping out of fights and getting large amounts of friends, which gained him a lot of free perks. It also meant that he managed to get on well with the teachers.

The idea of a new addition to the family did not worry Mycroft; he had no opinion on the child. Another sibling could prove useful and a hindrance. However, it was more likely that Mummy and Daddy would look after the child and Mycroft would experience very little difference in his life. So during the past seven months, Mycroft had continued as normal, the only difference was making sure that Mummy was not struggling. From what Mycroft new, mothers had a harder time when they were going to have a child.

But now, just past eight months of Mummy carrying the child, she had been rushed to hospital, with Mycroft and Daddy following. This slightly worried Mycroft, he did not wish for his mother to be harmed from this. But the boy was aware of how advanced medicine was. From what he had heard, there were very few deaths from childbirth. So his younger sibling was also likely to be fine as well. Mycroft looked up at Daddy, who looked like he might want to start pacing again. Mycroft knew that his father believed that Mycroft was unaware of the situation, which was why he was so relaxed. Why should Mycroft be aware of what was happening.

The boy's eyes flickered to the clock. It was nearing two hours since his mother's arrival in hospital and he was beginning to feel hungry. They had missed breakfast and it was a Thursday, so Mycroft was also missing his classes, not something that he enjoyed. Mycroft always attempted to have a perfect attendance, which his teachers adored him for. Mycroft knew that most of the other children took a day or two off when they only had simple signs of a cold, or even faked one to get a break.

"Everything is going to be fine" Daddy said, his face full of worry. The seven year old regarded him.

"Daddy, it does seem that most people manage to survive." Mycroft pointed out, knowing not to use his wider range of vocabulary at this point. During an emotional time, people preferred it if Mycroft acted his age, not older.

"You must be hungry, Croft. Why don't you buy some breakfast from the café?" Daddy said. The café was within the line of site of Daddy, but Mycroft could tell that Daddy did not want to travel even that far from the waiting room.

"What do you want?" Mycroft asked, wondering if his father would be able to stomach food. His father had a delicate digestion system, quite easily affected by change. Mycroft was similar, but he needed his food.

"Maybe some tea." Daddy said and Mycroft gave a nod. Daddy handed the boy some money and Mycroft headed over to the café.

There, the boy looked at all the food, and finally decided on an English breakfast, he was very hungry and some of it could probably be shared with his father, although he doubted that the food would be good quality. Paying for that and tea, peppermint, as that usually calmed his father down, Mycroft headed back, the seven year old noticing that once again his father was pacing.

"I got your tea, Daddy." Mycroft said, holding out the tea, his plate full of breakfast on the other hand, wobbling a bit. Daddy quickly moved to take the cup and Mycroft held the plate with two hands, giving a small sigh before going and sitting down, eating the food. As he had predicted it was terrible, but it would have been worse to have nothing or less. That would mess up his eating habits and order that would end in an uncomfortable stomach. It was those that Mycroft hated. Although Mycroft offered Daddy food, he did not take it and Mycroft was left to finish the meal by himself.

Another hour passed and Mycroft realised that he was beginning to feel worried, when finally the door opened. His Daddy stopped pacing and Mycroft stood up. A nurse was there with a serious face.

"Is she alright? Is the baby alright?" Daddy asked, walking towards the nurse, Mycroft behind.

"Mrs Holmes is in perfect condition, she is just resting at the moment, although she has been asking for you." The nurse said. Mycroft frowned. She was avoiding mentioning the baby. Either it hadn't made it or there wasn't a good chance of it making it through. The baby was nearly a month premature, so Mycroft knew that problems were a possibility. He looked over at Daddy to see his he had noticed this.

"And the baby?" Daddy asked, his voice shaking as if he were too scared to ask.

"You have another son, although he isn't in a good condition. There's a fifty per cent chance that he won't make it through the night.

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**Thank you for reading!**

**Please Review/Comment!**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here is the Next Chapter!**

**Thank you to ItsEasierToRun, Eldar-Melda, lotluz and TadPole11 for your reviews.**

**So this is the next chapter of A Childhood Dream, a Childhood Lost, and I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock is the property of the BBC**

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**Chapter Two**

Mycroft analysed the nurse's words while they walked to see Mummy. She had need talking in the negative, not saying fifty per cent chance of surviving, but it meant the same, either way. But it suggests that she didn't have much hope for the baby. The seven year old frowned, if the child died, Mummy would be terrible upset and Mycroft did not want that. But the loss of a possible brother would not affect Mycroft in the slightest. As they arrived, Mycroft thought Mummy looked exhausted and Daddy rushed to her side. Mycroft followed at a slower pace, stopping beside Mummy as Daddy held her hand.

"They say he's only got a fifty per cent chance of living." Daddy told Mummy, who looked heartbroken at the news.

"He's so small." She whispered, almost tearfully, leaning back again the bed. Mycroft took all this in with emotionless eyes, trying to understand how they had become so endeared to something that had a chance of dying and that Daddy had not even seen. While he was working on understanding emotions, Mycroft did not completely get them, although he understood when to portray a certain emotion, when to not show one. He just didn't know the reasons behind them. It had to be practical.

Mummy and Daddy continued to talk, discussing whether or not to name the child. They decided to wait, to see if he survived, but they decided that he would need a good old family name to keep him going. They had given Mycroft an old family name and he had turned out to be excellent, a model child according to the teachers. Hopefully the same luck would pass on to this child. Then, Mummy started to pay some attention to Mycroft, apologising for ruining his day and taking him out of lessons, asking whether he had a chance to eat breakfast.

"Don't worry, Mummy. I'd rather be here supporting you. And I did buy breakfast, it was nowhere near as good as yours, but I'm fine. You should stop worrying." Mycroft said, his words more similar to the older self he had, he knew mummy found it supportive and she gave a small smile, leaning back.

"That's my Mycroft." She said, closing her eyes. After half an hour and no more words, Daddy turned to Mycroft.

"Do you want to see if we can visit the baby?" Daddy asked softly, Mummy was sleeping.

"Okay." Mycroft said, without much care. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached to the baby who could die.

They went to find the nurse, who looked at them with a sympathetic look before leading them through a few corridors and into a darkened room. Inside, there was the hum of machines, which were connected to a tiny body.

"Is that him?" Daddy asked, softly. "What's wrong with him?"

"Premature birth and he wasn't ready for it. He does have enough food to keep him sustained. We've got him on the drip, trying to get more energy into him. But it's below most normal levels." She said, looking at Daddy.

"Can we have a minute, alone?" Daddy asked and the nurse gave a nod, moving over to the door and leaving. I knew she was just waiting outside. Daddy walked forward and he looked down at the baby. Mycroft paused, before moving forward to get a better look at the baby. He was thin; he looked like he was nothing but bone and skin, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. There were thin curls on his head, pale blonde, although Mycroft could see some black slipping in from the routes. It appeared that the boy, if he lived, would have the same dark hair as Mycroft.

But what surprised the seven year old as he gazed down at the small helpless form was the desire to protect the boy. His brother. This delicate body, someone who might not even make it through his first night, was his brother. If the baby survived, Mycroft decided that he would do his best to protect him and help the baby make a way through life.

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**Hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing!**

**Please Review/Comment!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all!**

**And here we have Chapter Three of a Childhood Dream, A Childhood Lost!**

**I'd like to thank Eldar-Melda and JohnLennonLuvva for your reviews.**

**Eldar-Melda, I'm glad you find the Mycroft in character. And yes, he does care for Sherlock, which is probably going to be a common theme throughout the story. Although it will probably evolve as the story goes on into a more grown up form of caring. **

**JohnLennonLuvva, I agree with you, I always see Mycroft as the more intelligent of the two, especially having read the Orginal Books by Conan Doyle. The story, if it is sucessful enough should continue to cover events up to the events that we see in the television series, however I may be tempted to go further if it appears that the story can cope with that. Either way, you should begin to see a Mycroft domineering the deduction world as the two begin to grow older and their skills develop more. **

**So here is the next chapter, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Three**

It had been two days since his brother's birth and Daddy was taking Mycroft to visit Mummy and the baby. Fortunately the baby had made it through the night and all of Friday, in fact, they had higher hopes for him. Apparently Mummy and Daddy had come up with a name for the child and today, Mycroft would find out. The boy was interested in finding out what his brother would be called. All that Mycroft knew was that it would be an old name. Judging by the fact that they were hopeful that the boy would survive, Mycroft presumed that it would be a name meaning 'luck' or 'fighter'.

The children at school were unaware of the new addition to the Holmes family. They had the unspoken assumption that Mycroft had been sick, as everyone did at some point. Of course, the teacher knew and had taken Mycroft aside for a few minutes to talk to him about this. Mycroft had told her that he was prepared for the outcome and that he had an idea of how to take care of his brother, if he made it, and he had some idea of how to look after his mother. That was true, when he had come home, Mycroft had went into the Library and read everything that he could on the topic.

Walking into the hospital room, Mycroft saw the little baby in Mummy's arms, she was holding him carefully as if he could break at any moment but the young boy could see the obvious improvements in the baby. There was some colour in the child, instead of the same paleness. With his pale hair, he looked healthier, unless you looked at the small section of dark hair near the roots.

"How is he?" Daddy asked as soon as he got in. Mummy looked up, she appeared tired.

"They think he's going to be fine. He's taking milk and shouldn't need to be on any more drips." Mummy said, a smile on her face. Mycroft realised that she was relieved.

"What have you decided to call him?" Mycroft asked.

"Sherlock, because his hair is so fair." Mother said, proudly.

"Although I think it's going to get darker." Daddy said and Mycroft gave a nod, showing that he agreed with Daddy.

"Doesn't matter. He's beautiful." Mummy said, looking fondly down at Sherlock.

"Do you know when both of you will be well enough to come home?" Mycroft asked politely.

"Hopefully by the end of next week if we don't get any worse." Mother said, looking cheerful and Mycroft gave the needed smile.

"That's good news. It'll give me some time to add the finishing touches to Sherlock's room." Daddy said. Mycroft knew that the early arrival of Sherlock had disrupted the planning and work on the new room. The wall was a white colour and there were some toys and a cot for Sherlock. A lot of it was reused from Mycroft's early years, but they had brought some more things for Sherlock. A lot of Mycroft's old things had been given away as Mummy and Daddy didn't expect to have another child. They had wanted one, but it wasn't until seven years that their hopes had been answered.

"Mycroft, I just wanted to make sure that you are okay with Sherlock. I know that you have very academic hopes and that your lack of enthusiasm is probably worry that a new arrival will-" Mummy started.

"No, he went to the Library as soon as possible and has started researching all these sorts of things." Daddy said.

"Really?" Mummy asked and Mycroft looked over to Mummy before his gaze flickered to Sherlock.

"Initially I did not have any opinion on having a new member of the family, but when I saw Sherlock I realised that this was my brother and that it would be my duty to try and protect him." Mycroft said, slowly, thinking about his words.

"I'm glad you like Sherlock." Mummy said softly.

"Are you practising to be Prime minster, with your careful thinking?" Daddy asked, and Mycroft gave a polite smile. Politics did interest him, despite not being taught in lessons, be believed that it was just like friendship groups, only remaining distanced from them and being politer.

"Would you like to hold Sherlock?" Mummy asked and Mycroft's eyes widened slightly, he had not been expecting that. From what he was aware, mothers were very protective of their children. Still, the seven year old had read about babies and hold them, maybe Mummy thought that he would be able to cope.

"I'm sure you'd worry too much." Mycroft said, almost nervous.

"He's your brother, and I'm sure you won't drop him. How about you come and sit on the bed and then I give him to you to hold?" Mummy asked, and Mycroft resigned to holding the baby.

Moving slowly towards the bed, he hopped up and moved closer to mummy, who sat up and leaned forward, gently holding Sherlock and giving the child to Mycroft. Gingerly holding the baby, Mycroft looked down into the calm face of his brother. Sleepily, the baby opened his eyes, blue eyes looking into blue. Then Sherlock sleepily clutched at Mycroft's fingers and closed his eyes again, falling back to sleep with a tiny yawn. Neither released their hold until a few hours later.

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**Thank you for reading!**

**Please Review/Comment!**

**(It really does help my get the next chapter up sooner as I'm lost without my reviewers.)**

**Until Next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Next Chapter up and ready!**

**Thank you to mazula7856 and Eldar-Melda for your reviews!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Four**

Mycroft watched the other children in the playground, many of them rushing around, playing a game called 'it'. It was very popular and often Mycroft had to engage in such activities to keep his large circle of 'friends'. Of course, the simple answer to winning the game was to avoid sudden and sharp movements. Mycroft had observed this on his first day. The others always went for those who dashed around, attempting to avoid being caught. Their eyes simply slid over those who could be either playing or just waiting for someone. As usual, some action was needed to prove that he was still playing the game, to keep the circle of friends.

It was always necessary to remain on good terms with his class mates; it avoided being singled out and it also kept Mycroft updated on the situation around him; knowing everything that was happening around him, which was something the seven year old enjoyed. More than once it proved to be useful.

"Hey! Mike!" Came a voice, and Mycroft turned. At school, he preferred to use the name 'Mike' as a shortened form of his name, although 'Croft was used at home. But if he were to use a name such as his full name (or even his other nickname) at school, it would single him out, people would view him as different and that would prevent social interactions which would ultimately lead to a lack of education and then lowering his future potential. It was not something that Mycroft would allow to happen.

Turning, Mycroft took in a girl in his year, short blonde hair and brown eyes. She had freckles across her face, inherited from her parents. Mycroft knew that her parents were close to his. The girl's name was Ellie and she appeared to be excited. Ellie enjoyed the average stereotypical things that girls at the age enjoyed, babies and horses, although she was beginning to gain an interest in dinosaurs. Mycroft believed that she would most likely end up as a Museum Assistant or guide, based on her interests and personality. On the weekend, her parents had visited Mycroft's Daddy and brought him some chocolate and flowers, to give to Mummy. It appeared that Ellie had found out about Sherlock from this.

"Is it true?" She asked, slightly out of breath.

"What you talking about?" Asked another boy, Mark. He wanted to get into the centre of the year which was generally viewed as those closer to Mycroft. Mark was new and it was obvious that he had been popular in his old school, although not so much now. It hadn't taken long for Mycroft to realise that Mark was spending a lot of his time hanging out as close as possible to Mycroft and trying to get more information. He showed potential, apart from his leaping in. If Mark remained quiet, then he would get the answers he wanted.

"Yes, Ellie, it is true." Mycroft said, before turning to look at Mark. "'What _are_ you talking about?' would be the proper way to phrase it. What we are talking about is also none of your concern." Mycroft said, politely. "However, I would recommend that you join in with the game of 'it', you wish to rise in the social ranks to the position you were in during your last school. A lot of the ranks are based on participation in that game, not me." Mycroft commented, the latter being closer to a lie than a truth. The work of Mycroft kept a lot of peace within the class, simply by knowing and helping all, but also trying to get them to think. By knowing everything he could about them, he could offer small amounts of help. Others then considered him to be someone to turn to and a friend. Not a threat. Mycroft knew that if he did not pay much attention to Mark or help him, he could build himself a rival. Not something he needed.

"Oh, okay." Mark said, shuffling off, before easily managing to get into the game. Year Three was considered to be one of the most open minded when it came to inviting others into their games.

"Daddy said he's called Sherlock. Isn't that a bit of an odd name?" Ellie asked.

"It's an old name." Mycroft said, wondering if he would be able to figure out a more normal nickname for Sherlock. At some point his younger brother would have to attend school and the name Sherlock could cause tension. Other children might view him as a capitalist, someone trying to big their own role in the school. Children didn't often realise in these cases that it was not the child who picked the name, but their parent.

"Why did they pick an old name for him?" Ellie asked, looking curiously at Mycroft. The seven year old boy knew that his peers often questioned things, something that he had tested out when he was younger and given up on. It had been at this point that he had started to work on a way to get the answers by himself. Deduction, as Mycroft called it, was something that he had been using for close to four years. He had developed it early during his time in Preschool where the prospect of asking questions had first arisen and the idea of getting his own answers had soon followed.

"Family habit, I believe. I do believe Daddy also has an old name." Mycroft replied, after some thought.

"Like you?" Most people knew Mycroft's full name and were grateful, although they were not consciously aware of it, that he chose to shorten it down to a normal name.

"Yes." Mycroft replied, leaving the subject closed, as he had tried earlier. Mycroft had yet to decide how to let the news of Sherlock come into the school. Some students would have siblings of the same age of Sherlock at some point, judging by the idea of three different aged siblings. One family already was like this and it was only half way through the school year. Although uncommon, Mycroft also knew that several families had step fathers and mothers, thus increasing the chance of a new sibling in Sherlock's age group. At some point he would need to divulge the information. It would keep his year calm about it when Sherlock came into the 'limelight' as it were and it could provide Sherlock with potential friends.

"No one else knows, yet." Ellie stated.

"Unfortunately my brother is not very well. I would prefer to wait until his future is more certain. Will you keep him a secret until he's ready?" Mycroft asked.

"Only if I can visit." Ellie replied. Often, she would visit with her parents and Mycroft saw no problem with this.

"If Mummy and Daddy say yes, I'm sure we'll all be delighted to have you around." Mycroft responded, allowing warmth to seep into his tone.

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**Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Mazula7856, I'm glad that you enjoy the story. I will try and update it was often as possible!**

**Eldar-Melda, there will be more interaction between Mycroft and Sherlock soon. More holding Sherlock. **

**Please review/comment!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The day had come, it was Friday and Mummy and Sherlock were coming home. Daddy had prepared Sherlock's room and Mycroft had helped. Later, Ellie and her parents would be coming around to see Sherlock and check that Mummy was okay. Mycroft sat patiently in the living room, waiting for Mummy to return. Daddy had gone to pick her up and they had hoped that they would return before Mycroft returned home. But he had returned early and now he had spent two minutes alone. Most other children his age would not have managed, but Mycroft found no problem in having the house to himself. He didn't know when he would next have that chance. From what he had read, babies did not keep very quiet.

Finally, there was the sound of a door opening and Mycroft placed his book carefully on the table, before thinking better of it. There would be a baby in the house, he didn't want it to fall on Sherlock or get chewed. So picking up the book, the seven year old placed it in the bookshelf and carefully walked to the front door and looked up at Daddy and Mummy entering, Sherlock clutching at Mummy's clothes with his tiny hands.

"Sorry, we tried to get home earlier. Traffic." Daddy apologised, closing the door behind Mummy.

"It's so good to be back." Mummy said and Mycroft gave her a smile.

"Did Sherlock mind the journey?" Mycroft asked. From what he had read, babies didn't like change, nor did they enjoy journeys.

"Quite as a lamb. He never seems to complain about anything." Mummy said.

"You were just the same. When you got older, you started to complain about things you didn't like." Daddy said.

"Jane and David are coming over later, aren't they?" Mummy asked, turning to Daddy. The movement awoke Sherlock and he blinked and looked around at the surroundings. Reaching out, Sherlock touched the wall and his eyes widened as he tried to grab at it and failed. Turning back to Mummy, he grabbed at her, and held on tightly, then tried the wall again. Mycroft guessed that Sherlock was learning about different surfaces through touch. It would be interesting to monitor Sherlock's reactions as he learnt about the world. It should help with social situations, with a bit of knowledge transference.

Then, Sherlock turned and saw Mycroft; the baby stared at him for a few minutes and then pointed at the seven year old and made a little noise.

"He does seem rather advance, just like you. He can actually remember faces already!" Mummy said, proudly.

"That's very uncommon among babies." Mycroft commented, remembering his revision on the topic.

"Do you want to hold him again?" Mummy asked and Mycroft blinked. Was he going to have to hold Sherlock often? It had been interesting the first time and Mycroft did feel protective of Sherlock, a desire to care for him. But he hadn't considered having to hold him very often.

"Wouldn't he be safer with you, Mummy?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm sure if we sit down it will be fine. He's really not that heavy. You probably could hold him while standing up." Mummy said.

"I better call Jane and Tim to tell them that we're running a bit late." Daddy said, going over to the phone. Mycroft watched as his father started dialling and mummy went into the living room. As she passed, Mycroft noticed Sherlock staring at him with what appeared to be a slightly grump look and the seven year old gave a small smile. It appeared that Sherlock was rather developed in mental areas, despite being underdeveloped in the weight area. Following Mummy into the living room, Mycroft sat down beside her and she gave him Sherlock. The baby stared at Mycroft and then lifted out a hand and grabbed the older boy's nose.

"He likes touching things." Mycroft replied.

"Yes, and he doesn't get go until he finds something new to hold." Mummy laughed, holding out a finger, that Sherlock immediately grabbed and clung onto.

"Was I like that when I was young?" Mycroft asked, looking down at Sherlock. His younger years had never particularly interested Mycroft and the topic was never brought up.

"You preferred to watch things. You just sat there and we all thought something was wrong with you. We even took you to the doctors. But as soon as we got into the waiting room you started to react and appear normal. Turned out that you enjoyed seeing different things and interacting, then you got bored. But you got on with everyone incredibly well. You loved new guests and they adored you." Mummy said, smiling. Mycroft frowned, it was strange to consider that he was adored when younger.

"You were very cute," Daddy said, entering. "Actually, you were also under weight. More so than Sherlock, in fact. You had to remain in the hospital for a week, but you put on weight very easy. By the end of the week, though, you'd put on so much weight that you were heading to overweight!" Daddy laughed.

"But you settled into a better habit, don't worry dear. Your perfect with your weight." Mummy replied as Mycroft looked slightly confused at this information. But the boy wasn't thinking about that. There had to be a link between Sherlock and him being underweight. That would be mother. Maybe she didn't eat enough to sustain herself and a child. Or maybe it was something inherited.

"Is Sherlock gaining more weight?" Mycroft asked, but he knew the answer by simply holding the child in his arms. Sherlock hadn't put on that much weight.

"No, barely any. He's only just allowed out." Daddy said, giving a small look down at the baby, nestled in Mycroft's arms, clutching Mummy's finger, big wide blue eyes staring up at the ceiling.

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**Thanks for Reading! I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Thank you to Eldar-Melda, Carlila and theangelsarecoming for your reviews.**

**Eldar-Melda, I'm glad that you like Mycroft having a friend and a social life. I agree that its often not explored and I'm glad that you like it. **

**Carlila, The Holmes children both appear to be slightly strange, and it is probably going to be explored quite a lot in the rest of the story.**

**theangelsarecoming, I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and I'll try and keep the updates quick.**

**Please review/comment!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Finally! I have gotten the next chapter up! Sorry for the delay.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Six**

Mycroft was still holding Sherlock when Ellie and her parents came around. It had started raining and only fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. Daddy had rushed to get it immediately and the smell of home back banana bread entered the house and Mycroft's stomach gave a small rumble. It smelt really nice. Sherlock screwed up his face and let go of Mummy's finger, instead grabbing Mycroft's shirt with both of his hands.

"I better go and greet Jane and Tim, you don't mind?" Mummy asked.

"Go ahead. And if you're going to share the banana break about, don't forget me!" Mycroft said with a smile.

It was at that point that Ellie burst in, and ran over to Mycroft, before she stopped and stared at Sherlock, her eyes wide.

"He is so cute!" She breathed, going higher and louder on the word 'cute' Sherlock wiggled slightly.

"I don't think he likes higher tones." Mycroft commented.

"Oh, sorry little baby." She said, sitting down besides Mycroft. Sherlock looked at her, then reached out towards Ellie, grabbing a clump of her hair that she had put into bunches. She jumped, but Sherlock kept his grip and Mycroft noticed Ellie grimacing in pain. He didn't want her to cry, so he quickly tried to attract Sherlock's attention with his finger. Sherlock stared at his finger, before grabbing it, and Mycroft slowly brought his finger closer to Sherlock's own little body.

"Sorry about that. I should have warned you that Sherlock has a habit of grabbing things." Mycroft apologised as Ellie wiped away some tears that had started.

"He just startled me, that's all." She said, although it was obvious that she had been hurt when she jerked away and Sherlock had held onto her hair.

"You don't have any siblings, do you?" Mycroft said, although he knew the answer. People liked to talk about themselves.

"No, but I'd love to have a brother or sister. It would be so nice to have someone to look after. A smaller person." She said, gazing down at Sherlock who looked back up at her, his young expression curiously looking back up at her.

"He's sweet, isn't he. And curious. He's going to be a little watcher, isn't he?" Ellie said.

"I don't know what he'll be." Mycroft said, as their parents came in, Jane, Ellie's Mum, carrying three plates of banana bread. She handed one to Ellie and another to Mycroft. Mycroft looked over at the food longingly, but Sherlock was on his lap and clinging to his fingers.

"Do you want me to take him?" Asked Mummy, putting her plate down.

"No, you should eat first. I can wait." Mycroft said. He was still pondering over the idea that mother might not have enough food in her considering the fact that Sherlock was underweight and she had been worried about him and not even at home.

"Can I hold him?" Jane asked, and Mycroft realised that the third plate she had been carrying was for Mummy.

"Sure, go ahead." Mummy said, taking up some bannana bread. Jane came over and carefully picked Sherlock up. He opened his mouth in a look of pure suprise before shutting it and grabbing hold of Jane's hair. She gave a laugh.

"It is as you said. So sweet." She told Mummy. Mycroft turned pick pick up his plate and taste the banana bread, it was warm and fresh, just the way the seven year old liked it.

"You said that he was underweight and barely gaining any weight." Jane said.

"Yes, hopefully he will gain some more weight here." Mummy said, looking at the small form of Sherlock in Jane's arms.

"Don't worry yourself, though. You can't work yourself to hard." Jane advised.

"Can't have another repeat of last time." Daddy muttered and Mycroft looked up from his banana bread. What had happened.

"Not infront of..." Tim said, slightly indicating his head to Mycroft, who looked away, pretending he hadn't heard. It would be best to avoid any confrontations, besides, Mycroft could probably find out the truth another way.

"I can help Mummy look after Sherlock." He said, acting as if none of the muttered conversation had not been heard.

"I'm sure you will, Mycroft, just don't forget school!" Jane said, cheerfully. Mycroft could tell from her tone that she didn't believe that he would be any help.

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**Thank you Eldar-Melda, BloodyRosie and Mycroftsdan for your reviews, they really keep me going.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter and I hope I can get the next one up soon.**

**Please Review/Comment!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the long delay to get this up. My main computer died and my muse has been somewhat low. I have skipped forward in time by a few years. **

**Please enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Seven**

Mycroft looked at the four year old, who was staring hopefully up at him.

"Please 'Croft!" Sherlock begged, already in his little pirate costume with a cardboard sword at his side.

"Have you ever considered something different, Sherly?" Mycroft asked.

"Pirates are brilliant, what else is there?" The boy asked. "The British Empire is your thing. I don't like it." Sherlock pouted.

"Ah, but have you heard of privateers?" Asked Mycroft patiently. Sherlock cocked his head.

"No..." He said after a minute of thought.

"Pirvateers work under the protection of the Queen. They basically do the same thing as pirates, only legalised." Mycroft replied.

"So working with the law?" Sherlock checked, speaking slowly as he processed things. "What do they look like?"

"Well, you don't get people like them any more, but they would have dressed similar to pirates, only more fashionable, I believe. Although I've never met one. I'm just going on rough sources that I have. You should always seek the truth yourself, not to trust to others. Besides, wouldn't you rather wait until Daddy comes home so we can make some deductions?" Mycroftreplied.

"That won't be for ages!" Sherlock whinned. Mycroft looked at his little brother, then to his watch.

"We have roughly five minutes, Sherly. That is not enough time for me to get dressed or for us to even develop an interesting plot." Mycroft pointed out. "And then it will be about ten minutes until diner will be ready."

"After diner?" Sherlock asked, hopefully.

"Of course." Mycroft promised. "And my talk of privateers hasn't moved your interest onto a different career choice in the future?" He asked, with a smile. While their parents were pleased to indulge Sherlock in whatever the young boy wanted to be, Mycroft did think that, even at such a young age, you should try to carefully nudge children in the right direction. It was giving them a better opportunity in life.

"Nope! Nope! Nope!" Sherlock sang, happily, moving to look out the window as he waited for Daddy. "Do you think there will be much to read on him?" Sherlock asked, looking back at Mycroft.

"Deduce, Sherlock, is a better word to describe what we do. We deduce facts about them." Mycroft pointed out. Due to Sherlock's lack of weight, he'd been kept out of Pre-School. Mycroft had tried to give some arguements against it, but it was clear that Sherlock was not healthy enough to interact with others at that point. The young black haired boy didn't put on weight easily and didn't eat much. However, Sherlock was going to attend school in a few months and Mycroft wanted Sherlock to have as much information as possible. If Sherlock knew more about the world, hopefully he would be able to fit in. However, Mycroft did not consider how well Sherlock could use that knowledge.

"Deduce... how do you spell that?" Sherlock asked, scrabbiling around for a peice of pen and paper. The boy enjoyed learning how to write.

"D - e - d - u - c - e." Mycroft spelt out as soon as Sherlock had found his pen and paper. The young boy wrote it out carefully, in block with big spaces, before writing it out again, in several other different forms of hand writing that the boy was developing. Just then, there was the sound of the door opening and Sherlock's head shot up.

"DADDY!" He cried in delight, running towards the door.

"it was a bad day at work, wasn't it?" Sherlock asked, as Mycroft slowly followed, watching as his brother pestered his father.

"They sent you out to buy lunch, and you had to go rather far because the local shop had closed. It was raining, it's still on your coat. So it hasn't dried. Why's that?" Sherlock asked, looking up at father, then at Mycroft.

"The heating broke and many people are coming down with the flu. They couldn't fix it, but father was still needed at work. The local shop that they usually go to was closed down because of the flu." Mycroft commented as he came into view.

"How did you see that? I mean, how did you deduce that?" Sherlock asked.

"Teaching him long words again, Mycroft?" Asked Daddy, but there was little humour in his tone, after all, his day had not been good.

"If you paid any attention to the news, you would know that there has been a recent flu outbreak across England, especially in these areas. My school has sent out a warning that closure may happen if the flu gets worse. As Daddy is so swet, he had t walk further, the shop was closed. Most likely cause was the flu. There is no sign of anything else. The water from the rain hasn't evapourated off and Daddy appears to be cold. The heaters were not working. Yesterday Daddy had complained about the matenience staff coming down with the flu." Mycroft said.

"Tha's brilliant! Some day I will be just as good as you!" Sherlock said, the boy had been hanging on every word that Mycroft had said, while their father disappeared upstairs to have a quick and hot shower.

I'm sure you will, Sherly. You did very well." Mycroft said.

"How did you know about the flu, if you can't trust sources. You said that you got it all from the news and school." Sherlock said, a little frown on his features.

"To find out if a source is true, you should look at who has produced it. The news and school are most likely to be correct. The news can be biased depending on which one that you are looking at, so you have to pick out the exact facts. Cross referencing-" Mycroft paused as Sherlock opened up his mouth to ask about that word. "-Comparing two or more different sources - is a way of being able to see which facts remain the same and so are more likely to be correct." Mycroft informed his little brother. Sherlock sat and thought about the information.

"Is that what you always do?" Sherlock asked.

"I try to. But sometimes I do have to make assumptions. I try to avoid those, though. Like the assumption that the heating wasn't working simply because Daddy's coat was still wet."

"Okay." Sherlock said. "Do we have to have diner? Can't we just go play pirates?" Mycroft marvelled at Sherlock's ability to simple not feel hunger, or push it aside, but it was not something good to develop.

"No, Sherly." He said, ruffiling the boy's hair. "You may not feel the need to eat diner, but we do need to eat. I shall go and see if Mummy needs any help with cooking. Why don't you lay the table?"

"Yes 'Croft!" Sherly said, running towards the dinning room. Mycroft smiled, and walked towards the kitchen.

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**Thank you Ripplerose, I'm glad that you enjoyed it. I shall expand on what happened later on in the story.**

**Thank you Eldar-Melda, I'm really glad that the characters do appear like children, I keep worrying that Mycroft appears too old for his age. Ellie should make some more apperances soon.**

**Thank you Arysthae, I agree that Mycroft knows when to push it. I've always believed that Mycroft would have developed early diplomatic skills.**

**Thank you KaitlenPotter, I will try and make the chapters longer from now on.**

**Thank you BloodyRosie, Mycroft is very good at looking after younger Sherlock, although I belive that he may be better if everyone was raised how Mycroft believes that they should.**

**Thank you theangelsarecoming, Sherlock is cute as a young child and I think that he remains like that for quite a while.**

**Thank you anon, your words helped give me encouragement to continue and find something to focus on.**

**Thank you Laraha Steadyblade, I'm glad you are enjoying the story, there is much more to go and I'm looking forward to continueing it.**

**Thank you FullMoonPhoenixShadow, I aim to update this story more regularily from now on. I'm sorry for the delay.**

**Please review/Comment!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Finally another chapter up!**

**It took me a while to come up with this idea, or atleast it feels like a while to me and I'm glad that I've got it up and some more ideas for the next few chapters. **

**I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Eight**

Diner has been brilliant, at least Mycroft thought so. Sherlock had pushed his food about, but he slowly ate about half of what was set on his plate, which was as much as Sherlock could be expected to eat at best. And it had only been with Mycroft's encouragement, telling Sherlock that pirates needed all the food that they could eat that inspired the younger son to eat as much as he did. While Mycroft cleared the plates away, Sherlock rushed around the house, looking for things to build into his pirate ship or use as treasure. Often, the younger boy unearthed long forgotten things. Mummy and Daddy were going out to the cinema that night and Mycroft was under orders to get Sherlock in bed for 7 pm at the latest. But Mycroft aimed for 6 pm to have his little brother in bed and that gave them an hour to play.

There was the sound of a door closing and Mycroft finished clearing away the plates before watching as Mummy and Daddy walked along the pavement.

"'Croft!" a small voice called. Mycroft looked away from the window and his gaze fell upon a very pale Sherlock.

"What's wrong Sherly? Do you want me to get Mummy and Daddy?" Mycroft asked, worried, it wouldn't be that far to run, despite how much the older Holmes brother hated exercise. Sherlock looked like he had fallen really ill. Maybe the flu had suddenly caught him, although Mycroft doubted that the flu could strike so quickly. Besides, Sherlock had been perfectly healthy.

"No." Sherlock replied, walked over to Mycroft and tugging on his sleeve. Mycroft followed Sherlock, interested in seeing what could have shocked his brother this much. Sherlock lead Mycroft into the Living Room, where draws had been taken out as Sherlock looked for something to use as treasure, or a place to hide treasure. Glancing around the room, Mycroft knew it was searching for a place to hide treasure. A small pile of chocolate coins stood on the sofa.

Confidentally, Sherlock moved over to one of the draws and Mycroft noted that a piece of card had been used to create a fake bottom. It was one of the draws that Daddy had told him not to mess up and Mycroft respected his father's wishes. From what he knew, a lot of these were important documents.

"Sherly, Daddy will be annoyed that you've messed up his work." Mycroft said, starting to organise the paper together as best he could, avoiding it getting messed up any more.

"Look..." Sherlock said, pulling out a small wad of paper and handing them to Mycroft. Taking the papers, Mycroft scanned through them. The papers were chronological. The top was the most recent and was an account of Sherlock's health as a child, and about the general family health. Mycroft knew that his Daddy enjoyed things to be ordered and trying to figure out everything, creating links. So it appeared Daddy was considering if Sherlock's arrival effected Mycroft's grades or the health of the family or the new arrival. But apparently this had not shocked Sherlock as he moved the papers onto a collection about Mycroft when he had arrived in the family.

Scanning through the documents, Mycroft noted that he had been seriously underweight, worse than Sherlock and that this had put a lot of strain on his mother, who soon fell ill and had to be treated. Both had picked up incredibly quickly after that, but Mycroft realised this was what his father had meant all those years ago about not wanting a repeat of last time.

"And this is what worried you, Sherly?" Mycroft asked calmly, putting the papers back in order. The boy nodded. "What part exactly?" Asked Mycroft, not that suprised that Sherlock had been able to read the writing. After all, Mycroft had been teaching Sherlock.

"Mummy fell ill because you were not the normal weight. I've heard all of you saying that I need to eat more. Will it make Mummy ill if I don't?" Sherlock asked, his voice trembiling. "And how close I was to not having you."

"Sherly, you are older now and Mummy understands as well. She was new to looking after children when she had me. She probably wasn't aware of what a strain she was putting on herself. We have had no problem ever since. And this is all in the past and I am here. It wasn't that serious with me. In other countries, children have to face worse and still pull through." Mycroft explained. "Mummy just over reacted." Sherlock looked up at Mycroft with wide eyes and the older brother gave a sigh, but smiled and opened his arms. Rushing into them, Sherlock snuggled into Mycroft's arms and when the boy finally fell asleep, Mycroft slowly carried his brother upstairs and tucked Sherlock in.

Then, Mycroft when back downstairs and silently tidied up the room, returning the papers. From glancing through some of them, it appeared that it was all in chronological order and it wasn't hard for him to sort them and place them back. Then, he took the chocolate and took them to Sherlock's room and placed them on the bedside table. Hopefully Sherlock wouldn't bring up the papers that he had found. Mycroft didn't want to cause any pain for his Daddy.

Sitting downstairs, Mycroft watched the news and when Mummy and Daddy came back, he turned off the television and went to greet them.

"Is Sherly asleep?" Mummy asked as they silently entered the house. Sherlock was usually easily disturbed from his sleep from people entering the house.

"Yes, he went to sleep at about five thirty." Mycroft replied.

"That's good, he's got a big day at school tomorrow." Daddy said, hanging his coat up and then going into the living room. Mycroft heard the sound of a draw opening and he paused. He had closed the draw completely, but then he realised that he didn't know how the draw was before Sherlock had made his search.

"Mycroft." His father's voice said sternly, and Mycroft walked into the living room, Mummy frowned and followed, putting her shoes on the shoe rack.

"The draw was three quaters closed when I left. I had been doing some work and put it in here." Instantly, Mycroft's mind connected the dots, but too late for once. His father feeling ill, another thing that could be put in with the order. The slip of the news about the flu in the area, his father's scribled notes. And the draw was stiff and didn't close. His father had been here before leaving, he must have hurried out. Mycroft thought about where the linking had gone astray, normaly it wouldn't do that. Then he identified the cause, he had been worried about Sherlock. He would have to work on making sure that emotions didn't block the deductions. He could say that he had closed it to make sure that Sherlock wouldn't open it, but he had only estimated how the papers were arranged and it was possible that there was another deeper order to the papers that he had missed if he had been so worried about Sherlock. Still, Mycroft didn't want Sherlock to get blamed and he knew Daddy could be strict if he wanted. Not because Daddy wanted to be strict but because he liked order.

"Why is it closed now?" Daddy asked, his voice calm. Mycroft heard his mother give a small sigh.

"Must you be so ordered so late? Why not talk about this in the morning?" She asked.

"No, it's fine Mummy." Mycroft interjected, his mind quickly looking for a viable answer that didn't involve Sherlock.

"Well?" Father asked as Mycroft finally came up with an answer.

"I was coming in here to arrange things for a game with Sherlock when I accidentally bumped into the draw. I realised it was open and I was worried, as you usually are careful to close it. I forgot that you told me that I am not allowed to look at the papers and I took them out to look at, just scanning through a few titles to see if anything appeared out of place. Sherlock coming down the stairs made me jump and I messed a few of the papers up. I thought everything was in chronological order, so I placed them back like that. I was going to tell you but I seem to have forgotten." Mycroft replied calmly, aware that behind him, Sherlock was listening. No one else had heard him come down the stairs. Mycroft watched as his Daddy searched through the papers.

"Only a few out of order and only because they are on the same date." His father told him. "Any questions about the papers?" Mycroft knew this was to see if Mycroft had looked and found the hidden papers, which would unhinge the whole story if he asked about them. It would mean that he had searched.

"No, I am not yet skilled enough to make much sense of most of the documents. Mostly they were linked to your work in economics, were they not? And I have not been studying that for long enough. Although if I do become wiser I would love it if you shared some of your knowledge with me." Mycroft said. Daddy blinked, then nodded.

"Some day, I will. But you know that you shouldn't have looked in the draw. So no chocolate tomorrow and no unhealthy breakfast for a week." By that, Mycroft knew he meant no sugary or chocolate cereals. Which would hopefully mean at some point Mummy would make a full English breakfast, which would really help him with his work.

"Yes Daddy. Good night." Mycroft said, turning around to face Mummy. "Good night, Mummy." He said, with a smile before heading out of the room. "Come on Sherly, it _is _bed time for you." Mycroft said, leading the boy upstairs and tucking him in. But after Mycroft had brushed his teeth and entered his bedroom he saw a golden chocolate coin, a large on at that, on his desk, on top of a little note with scrawled handwriting that kept changing.

_Why did you not tell Daddy the trooth? _Mycroft smiled at Sherlock's spelling of truth. Sometimes it was the more simple words that he struggled with, ones which he didn't think he needed spelling out.

_Do I need to keep it a secret now? I'm sorry for getting you blamed. Can you find me a book about privateers. Maybe I will look at them. If you were acting like a privateer it was nice._

Mycroft smiled and carefully put the note with a load of other questioning notes that Sherlock had written and handed to him. Looking at the coin, Mycroft smiled and put it in his draw. He had brushed his teeth and tomorrow his ban on chocolate started. He would wait and then share the treat with Sherlock. However little the boy wanted or would eat.

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**And there we have it, Chapter Eight. I hope you all enjoyed it.**

**Thank you PotterSherlocketc for your review, I'm glad you've got something to keep you going until the next series. I cannot wait for that to come out and helping people keep going until then is one of the aims of writing this fanfic.**

**Thank you Eldar-Melda for your review, Mycroft does seem like a teacher to Sherlock and seeing as they have the same gift, I always thought it was something that Sherlock learnt from his older brother. And this story shall cover what broke the brothers apart and it is that which is the original inspiration of this story. And I think that they both picked up some of their skills from the father.**

**Thank you FullMoonPhoenixShadow for your review, hopefully with Study Leave and the summer holidays the chapters should be able to be longer and updates will hopefully be regular. At least that is my aim. And I agree, little Sherlock is cute.**

**Thank you BloodyRosie for your review. Mycroft is a good teacher and unfortunately, soon Sherlock will have to cope with normal boring teachers. Although I think that Mycroft doesn't want to leave his cute little brother to the education in school.**

**Thank you Ripplerose for your review, I agree that the brother's have completely changed as they grew older, but I have always seen them when they were younger as being close. And hopefully the Christmas diners weren't that bad when they were children, even if Sherlock was anti-food back then.**

**Thank you again to everyone for reviewing, reviews are the life blood of muse and they really help me with getting the next chapters up.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please review/Comment**


	9. Chapter 9

**And here we have Chapter Nine, the day after Chapter Eight.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Nine**

"Can we go yet?" Sherlock asked, as he stood by the door in his school uniform, practically bouncing up and down at the thought of finally attending school. Last night's adventures were completely forgotten.

"Not yet, Sherly, otherwise we will be to early." Mycroft replied, carefully putting on his tie infront of the mirror, making sure that his uniform was perfectly positioned.

"But I can't wait! I've been stuck at home waiting for you to return and there has been nothing interesting to do. The television is mostly pointless and the interesting things Mummy won't let me watch!" Sherlock protested.

"You are too young for those crime programs and Mummy lets you watch those documentaries, doesn't she?" Mycroft replied, now brushing his hair. "Why don't you brush your hair, Sherly? You want to look neat for your first day, don't you?" The older brother questioned as he took great care over his apperance.

"Why should I?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Because it shows that you care about yourself and thus you care about others. It encourages people to think positive thoughts about you and increases your chances of making friends." Mycroft replied.

"And friends are important?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, they play games wit you and open up new oppotunities to learn." Mycroft replied, finishin with his appearence and walking over to Sherlock, bending down to Sherlock's height and giving him a small smile.

"Okay, 'Croft." Sherlock said, and he went to brush his hair. Mycroft smiled at Sherlock's new enthusiasm and when the younger boy returned, he was neat and beamining.

"Mummy said that I did good to brush my hair!" He said, holding up a small chocolate coin. "She gave me more treasure to play with!" He smiled.

"Or treasure to eat, Sherly." Mycroft grinned, standing up and swinging his school bag onto his back and picking up Sherlock's smaller back. "Why don't you save that for lunch." He replied.

"Will you visit me at lunch?" Sherlock asked.

"I have managed to talk to both my teachers and your teachers and they have allowed me to visit, but only for twenty minutes." Mycroft replied, calmly. He had to promise to make up the work and even do extra work to get let out of lessons to be able to visit Sherlock at his own lunch time, and was giving up his own one hour lunch for the missed lesson. The teachers at Sherlock's school and been delighted to allow the secondary school boy to visit the primary school.

Sherlock didn't respond, but hummed as he placed the coin in his beg, which was held by Mycroft, who was opening the door with one hand.

"Okay, Sherly, it's time to go." Mycroft replied, waiting for Sherlock to exit the house before following his little brother. They walked through the streets before stopping in the park.

"Why are we waiting here, 'Croft?" Sherlock asked.

"We are waiting for Ellie. She goes to school with me and I met her when I was just younger than you." Mycroft replied. "Do you remember her?" He asked. Ellie had visited less often due to being tied down with school work and a certain incident with Sherlock when he had tried to open up a dead mouse in the garden using the nail clippers that she had in her bag. Sherlock had only been three at that time and although she found him cute, she had thrown up because of the scene, could never use nail clippers again and worried about what damage might have been done to Sherlock if they hadn't caught him in time. Also, her cousin had moved in, after having a child at a young age.

"Yes, she didn't like the dead mouse." Sherlock replied, Mycroft nodded.

"It was more your attempt to disect it with her belongings, but that is the basics." He replied.

"I'm not allowed to use other people's things without asking and telling them what it is for." Sherlock said, slowly and steadily and Mycroft nodded. It was something he had taught Sherlock afterwards, although his brother sometimes forgot that rule.

"Mike!" Came a voice as Ellie hurried over. "Sherly!" She greeted, seeing the small boy, sitting on a bench to big for him. Mycroft stood up to greet her.

"Hello Ellie." He said politely. "I hope that Bex and Josh are fine."

"Yeah, when I left, Josh had finally started sleeping. Bex was exhausted, though." Ellie replied. Mycroft could see that Ellie looked tired, despite the make-up she had placed on her features to hide the signs. It was not to much of an uncommon occurance and Mycroft did often offer up invitations for Ellie to study at his place, to give her more time to relax.

"Mike?" Sherlock asked, then he frowned, remembering that it was Mycroft's other nickname.

"Yes, Sherly?" Mycroft asked, although he knew that Sherlock had just forgotten the other term that he was refered to.

"Nothing, just don't want to be late for school." Sherlock replied after a second's thought.

"That's sweet, he's looking forward to school!" Ellie said, confusing Sherlock.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock asked.

"School's tiring." Ellie sighed. "Sometimes I feel that I only really come in to see my friends, like your brother."

"School is important, though. Don't forget that." He said, speaking to both of them, not wanting Sherlock to be discouraged and reminding Ellie of her determination to get through the problems that she faced at home.

"True. Need to get to O-Levels and finish them." Ellie said.

"O-Levels?" Sherlock questioned.

"Exams that we have to face when we reach Year 10. Which is in three years time for us. You won't need to worry about it for a while." Mycroft replied.

"What exactly are exams? How are they spelt?" Sherlock asked.

"E-X-A-M. An exam is a single test, usually on one subject. It is meant to challenge the person answering the questions and then gives society an idea of their abilities. The better you do, the more likely you are to get a good job." Mycroft replied. Sherlock nodded.

"Does he need to know all those things?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow at Mycroft.

"The more he knows, the better equipped he will be for the future." Mycroft explained.

"Equipped?" Sherlock asked.

"E-Q-U-I-P-P-E-D. In this case, to prepare you for the mental task at hand. However, it can also mean supply someone with the necessary items for the task that they have at hand, which is the physical option. You are equipped with pens and pencils in the second definition's sense. In the first, it is knowledge." Mycroft replied. Ellie looked thoughtful. "Now, I believe we need to head to school."

With that, they headed towards the primary school and dropped off Sherlock at reception, where a teacher came to help him. As they left, Ellie turned to Mycroft.

"You are 'equipping' him too much!" She said as they walked, her eyes staring at the older Holmes brother.

"How so?" asked Mycroft, curious as to why Ellie had these thoughts.

"He won't need those words, they will spereate him out from the others with his wider range of vocabulary!" She exclaimed.

"I knew as much when I was his age." Mycroft replied.

"But does he know when to use it and when to keep silent?" Asked Ellie and Mycroft paused. He had assumed that Sherlock would be able to use it, just like Mycroft had. But Sherlock had been brought up in an enviroment where he wasn't questioned from picking up words. Mycroft had been questioned by his parents when he came up with new words and used them in perfect context. Mycroft had been interested in seeing what was aimed at his age group. Sherlock had none of these.

"I had not considered that." Mycroft said after a long pause of reflection on his actions.

Meanwhile at Primary school, Sherlock stood alone for the first time, staring at the other students around him, playing with each other, making simple games. Watching all of them, his keen blue gaze picking up parts of their life stories, Sherlock identified a group of children who appeared to be viable candidates for pirate games. Before he could go over to them, the teacher called everyone's attention, with some difficultly with some of the students, but when calm remained over them, she taught them so basic addition, which Sherlock already knew and then gave them out a sheet of paper to do, and placing them on tables. It took no time for Sherlock to finish his sums and soon the rest of the children on his table were crowding around him for the answers. Sherlock tried to explain how to do addition to them, but they took so long to get it that he simply gave up. Where other people always this stupid? He hadn't seen much of Ellie, but she didn't appear too stupid. Apart from the fact that she tried to hide how tired she was with make-up.

"Are you finished already, Sherlock?" The teacher asked, seeing the bored child. The other children stopped and frowned at the name. Sherlock remembered Mycroft saying that it was best to attempt to keep a name more common around others. Hence why he was called Mike at school.

"Sherly." Sherlock corrected, prefering his nickname to his full name and hoping that it was more common than Sherlock. Some of the other children snickered at this and Sherlock stared at them.

"Okay, well, Sherly, are you finised, then?" The teacher said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder to catch his attention.

"Yes, it was easy." Sherlock replied, handing her his sheet of completed sums. Shocked silence filled the class room.

"I see you have your brother's skills at Maths. Do you want to go help the other children?" the teacher asked.

"I have tried, but they seem unable to grasp the simple addition, so no." Sherlock replied.

"Addition?" Muttered child.

"I thought we were adding?" Another added. Sherlock rolled his eyes at this, didn't they know anything.

"Adding is a shortened form of addition. Adding can also be found in the English language for comunication in the form of 'added', 'adding' or even 'adds'. I thought it was obvious." Sherlock said, he hadn't needed Mycroft to explain this to him, why did the others need it to be explained to them.

"Okay, Sherly," the teacher said, and Sherlock caught some more snickers at that. "Do you want to come with me and we can see if there are more things your speed?" the teacher asked, and the black haired boy nodded, following the teacher to her desk, where she showed him the sheet of subtractions that she had. Also something that Sherlock found simple. Eventually, the teacher decided to expand on his knowledge of numbers as the boy could only count up to fifty with ease and could grasp the basic idea of how numbers progressed. After a few attempts, Sherlock had correctly figured out the order of numbers up to ninty-nine, then he paused frowning.

"I would think that next would be eleventy and one. But eleven is ten followed by one. And it would break down how numbers would work. What goes next?" The boy asked.

"Then you get to the one hundreds." The teacher said. "But let's leave it at that. I'll get you some more maths problems to solve." The teacher said, not wanting to go onto multiplication yet. The teacher was considering getting Sherlock sent to a grammar school. The same had briefly been considering for Mycroft, however, the older Holmes brother had attempted to fit in and just appeared to be a normal yet bright child. Sherlock with his lack of understanding of society appeared to be extremely clever.

At break time, Sherlock had finished the new problems, that took a while for him to puzzle out and he finally got the chance to approach the students who looked like they would enjoy playing a game of pirates.

"Hello," Sherlock said going up to the group and introducing himself. "I'm-" He started.

"Yes, we know, Shirly." They said, and then giggled, Sherlock frowned.

"What's funny?" He asked.

"You." One replied, sending the rest into a burst of more laughs.

"You have such a weird name, Sherlock, but you prefer to be known by a girl's name, Shirly." They said, Sherlock frowned, wondering if there was any other name that he could take.

"Do you want to play pirates?" He asked.

"How did you know we like pirates?" Asked one, the laughing stopping, as the children became curious, Sherlock relaxed, feeling more in his climate.

"You have some bruises and cuts on your arms that suggest either cardboard swords or plastic swords caused them. You also hold a similar pose to how a pirate would be, acting out your role subconsiously. Suggesting that it is a big part of your life. One of you, the girl, has a drawing of a skull and cross bones in pink pen on her hand." Sherlock said.

"And you could tell that all by one look?" The girl asked, curiously staring at him

"Yes..." Sherlock replied, wondering why it was such a big deal to them.

"Well, Shirly... why don't we call you 'lock' have have you unlock everyone elses secrets. You can even be the treasure keeper when we play pirates. The key keeper." one of the boys said, and Sherlock nodded, glad that things seemed to be normal now.

"What can you unlock about that kid, then, Lockster." Asked one of the boys, Sherlock picked up on the 'lock' and the extra ending and correctly assumed that it was a nickname for him. Following the finger of the child, Sherlock's gaze came upon a small boy, sitting by himself, looking rather sad and eating his lunch. His eyes followed a group of children who were playing with a skipping rope. They were in the year above Sherlock and girls. Sherlock noticed that one had the same colour hair and skin.

"He's not used to being apart from his siter. She's two years older than him, he's in the preschool connected to the school. He's not met any of the other students and is unsure of what to do. All he's able to understand is if he copies his sister, who gets on well with others, he should be able to get along with the others." Narrowing his eyes as he focused on what the child was eating, Sherlock noticed that it was a small peice of cheese. "He hasn't got a good background, the family is not rich." The clothes looked second hand, as if they had belonged to his older sister, with some of the more girly touches stitched away.

"So he doesn't have good treasure..." The biggest boy mused.

"Treasure?" Sherlock asked.

"Lunch, things to take." The boy, who Sherlock assumed the leader responded.

"Taking things from others is wrong." Sherlock replied.

"And you want to be a pirate yet you won't steal!" Laughed one of them. It was then that Sherlock noticed some things. These children were pampered, well looked after and had older siblings. They had a similar background to him, but he had never had so many marks from playing pirates with Mycroft. Their siblings weren't as careful. They also appeared to have been held back a year, Sherlock realised. His keen interest on finding someone who liked pirates had lead him to over look other details.

"Playing is different from actually doing it. It is fine to play, but not to actually steal. You know that, your older siblings have hurt you and stolen and you think that is the way. You've neglected school work and remained behind in this year. Also possibly because of your anti-social behaviour. But your parents don't teach you better because they dote on you. They are from rich backgroun-" Sherlock was cut off as one leaped at him and his eyes widened.

"Some of you have parents who don't care about you but will by things that you want." He added, noticing that the talk about parents seemed to have gotten some of them worked up. He dodged another attack and swallowed. Not sure what to do.

"You are fast on your feet, Shirly." The boy said and Sherlock considered the change had meant that they no longer viewed him as friend, and before hand, the 'friend' had simply been a good addition to their crowd to help them.

"You are like a girl, you know, backing away from us." Another laughed.

"HEY!" Came the voice from the only girl there, who leapt at him.

"Take that back!" She complained. Sherlock turned and ran to find the teacher.

"What, locked your bravery and everything else away, Shirly?" Came a cry from the group. Sherlock ignored it and told the teacher the whole story and his deductions. The group ended up in front of the head master for trying to start a fight and Sherlock got a lollipop as compensation for the attack on him. His parents were also contacted and were told what a good boy he was, facing up to the other children and telling the teachers the truth instead of fighting. After another boring hour, Mycroft came round at lunch, worry evident on his face.

"'Croft!" Sherlock exclaimed as he saw his brother walking through the gates, running to wrap his arms around Mycroft's legs before telling him the day's events, refusing to eat as he hoped around the bench that Mycroft was seated on. Of course, the older brother was slowly and carefully eating, but paying much attention to Sherlock's story, his face a mask for now. When Sherlock had finished, Mycroft slowly swallowed his mouthfull of food.

"It appears that a nickname for you does not work so well as I had hoped. You may wish to keep to Sherlock." Mycroft mused. "And I have not spoken to you about the expectations of society for someone at your age. Something that I now regret, although you did manage to hold those children at bay. Hopefully your work will improve some people's lives, but you will need to keep a look out for them." Mycroft replied.

"'Croft, why are people stupid?" Sherlock asked, softly, moving to sit up on the bench. There came no reply from the older brother, instead, he placed his food down and took out Sherlock's lunch box and opened it, regarding the uneaten snack and untouched lunch. Placing the box on Sherlock's lap, Mycroft did not respond until Sherlock reluctantly picked up his sandwich.

"People learn at a different pace. Both you and I have picked up subjects at a rapid pace. I have taught you some things before school and I spent many times listening in to others when I was your age and learnt quickly from that. Other people are not stupid, they are just yet to catch up with you." He replied, slowly.

"But they can't even figure out links between words nor understand how to add five and two together!" Sherlock protested, Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Sherlock looked down.

"Okay, five and twelve. But it is as simple as five and two." Sherlock muttered.

"Sherly, people often use their fingers and they do not realise that twelve can count as two and ten." Mycroft replied, finishing off his lunch, while Sherlock picked at his.

"I have to leave now and don't forget that Mummy is picking you up today." Mycroft said, after a moment of silence, standing up.

"But lunch is for another forty minutes!" Sherlock protested.

"It is for you, Sherly, but I have a five minute walk back and I am missing half an hour of my lessons." Mycroft replied, packing up his empty lunch box.

"So do you not get lunch?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.

"No, in Secondary School we eat lunch an hour later than you." Mycroft replied, putting his bag on hi back.

"So you get two lunches? That must be boring. And you don't even have any food to eat for the second one!" Sherlock said, laughing cheekily.

"I am going to do some catching up at lunch, don't worry about me. Just get through the day. You've only got another two hours left." Mycroft replied.

"You have another three." Sherlock said, frowning.

"Yes, and next year you two will have three. But for now, they don't think you can concentrate that long, so you get to see Mummy at home before me." Mycroft said, giving Sherlock's head a quick pat. The boy stared up at his older brother.

"See you then?" He asked.

"Yes, Sherly. Have a good day. Remember to try and fit in, act like the others. It's a game." Mycroft said, and then he left the school. Sherlock's eyes remained on the disappearing form until he could no longer see the lone figure.

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**I quite enjoyed this chapter as I've been able to do some of Sherlock's own view and I hope you all enjoy the insight into his mind. There should be more Sherlock's View Point as the story goes on. Hopefully, we can now begin to explore more of why Sherlock ends up as how he is, although I think we've got a while before he totally turns to the path we see him as an adult.**

**Thank you Eldar-Melda for your review, yes it is good that Sherlock can sleep as a child. Hopefully he will not have to cope with a dislike of sleeping for a while. And I agree, Mycroft is a cute and caring brother, the kind that anyone would want.**

**Thank you editor42 for your review, I love the interaction between Sherlock and Mycroft in the series and I love exploring how they interacted as children. They are very cute as children and get on so well compared to their adult selves. I think their Mother misses them as children.**

**Thank you BloodyRosie for your review, it is what his parents didn't want him to know. But Mycroft coped with the information better than they could ever imagine. And so far, the school system has not been any good fo Sherlock, whether it be the social side or the lesson side.**

**Thank you everyone for your reviews, they are all brilliant and really help with getting the next chapter up. I plan to do the next half of the day in the next chapter, so hopefully I can get it up before a week has passed.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please Review/Comment.**


	10. Chapter 10

**And another chapter finally up. And my muse is still being weird, so sorry for the delay. I will try get it under control by watching more Sherlock.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Ten**

The lunch lesson had went extremely well, Mycroft had finished the part of the lesson that he had missed in ten minutes, but he had been taking his time, attempting to work similar to the rate normal to the class. But his worry over Sherlock had caused him to hurry, not that that affected his work. The teacher found it perfect and better than the rest of the class. This caused the teacher to wonder if she should have suggested earlier to Mr and Mrs Holmes that Mycroft may fare better in a private school. Mycroft's work was usuall perfect, with occasional mistakes, that often seemed to be more nicked mistakes instead of a lack of understanding. But the rest of the work would always be flawless, nothing nicked or borrowed, all with Mycroft's unique style.

The rest of the day was not that interesting to either of the Holmes boys, both being capable of far more complicated work, but for Mycroft it was more entertaining. Always in school he would judge things based on how the others fared and tried to make himself average in comparion to them, although generally towards the upper level. This way he managed to avoid getting picked on as a 'boff' or 'nerd', who usually showed off their skills, but Mycroft found them lacking several skills. The only lesson he found of any difficulty was Physical Education, commonly known as P.E. which was an effort, however Mycroft was forced to participate as popularity was often linked to sports and those who did not try or participate were often looked down upon. Fortunately P.E. did not play a part in the day's activities.

When Mycroft returned home, Sherlock came running towards his older brother, but did not hug him, which Sherly usually did.

"Everything okay, Sherly?" Mycroft asked, bending down to look at his younger brother.

"The children don't like me. Even the ones who don't pick on others. They are scared of me." Sherlock said, looking up at Mycroft with big blue eyes.

"Why are they scared of you?" Mycroft asked politely, but already having deduced the answer.

"Why don't you tell me?" Sherlock asked, a smile tugging at his young features. Sherlock enjoyed the deduction games he played with Mycroft.

"Your ability to deduce their lives lead them to believe that you have some weird and threatening power, also suggested by your skills in your subjects." Mycroft replied cooly.

"And what else can you say about my day?" Sherlock asked, persistantly.

"You don't find school too bad, because someone admires your skill of deduction." Mycroft said, after a few seconds thought, then glancing briefly at Sherlock's school bag, Mycroft continued. "He belives that you are magic... reincarnation of Merlin." He added. "And he also has a friend who believes the same."

"How did you get all of that!" Sherlock asked, bemused.

"Firstly, you showed that you were excited, so that meant that it was something you enjoyed. You like being able to show off your skills, so therefore someone admired your skills. Secondly, your bag is open and a picture was take out and then placed on top. A crude picture with you, dressed up as a wizard, a boy as a king and a girl as a queen. They have names underneath and the handwriting is more akin to a male's than a female's." Mycroft explained. "Now, what can you say about my day?"

Sherlock paused and stared at Mycroft for a few minutes.

"It was a average day apart from visiting me. You hurried your lessons, but only slightly. You hurried because you were worried about me." Sherlock said slowly.

"Well, I was rushing, but going at a relaxed pace. However, that was faster than I normally go." In truth he was rather relaxed, usually he went slower to finish his work at the same time as the others. "You noticed by the decrease of fountain pen ink on my fingers, but an indent on my index finger from the pen. You therefore can assume that since the only change in my day is you attending school, that it therefore must be caused because of you." Mycroft said, briefly explaining Sherlock's deductions.

"I think you can read minds." Sherlock said.

"That's probably how you appear to your class mates, Sherly. I advice that you keep the deductions to yourself, and go slower on the work, trying to appear equal to your class mates. That is how to improve relationships between yourself and others. Remember that." Mycroft suggested.

"But what about Henry and Jackie? They like my deductions!" Sherlock protested.

"Then you can make some deductions, but make sure it will not be offensive to anyone." Mycroft suggested. "Now, I am going to get changed, do you want to play pirates?"

"No, I don't want to be a pirate any more." Sherlock said.

"Why's that?" Mycroft asked, looking curiously at the boy. Had it been his encounter with the bullies, he could find no other reason.

"Because of the bad people." Sherlock said.

"That much was obvious Sherlock. I don't ask questions for those answers." Mycroft pressed. Sherlock was evidentally not too keen to say the whole reason and Mycroft patiently waited as the younger boy thought about how to answer the question.

"They stole things from people, but it wasn't right. They didn't go against the more powerful people, they went against the weaker people. Pirates go against powerful ships and governments. Not little ships with weak people on them. Apparently things have changed to pirates and they are no longer so nice." Sherlock said, Mycroft didn't pick him up on a few of the points.

"So what do you want to be now?" He asked.

"I want to be like a pirate against the more powerful and not nice people. Like against those bad pirates. Like a wizard, only they don't exist. And I don't want to work with other people." Sherlock said.

"Well, I'll start thinking of other options then, ad you can continue to read and search for something that you might want to do when you are older." Mycroft replied, which lead to Sherlock rushing off to the book case. Smiling, Mycroft headed upstairs to get changed. Maybe a medical researcher, going against diseases. It would with the idea. Government was something that went against bad forces, but their was socialising in that and it was pretty much the power. The police was a lesser power and against bad people, but still they had an advantage. Private Investigator? That fitted the boxes, but Mycroft didn't want Sherlock to put himself into danger. Besides it would be rather difficult to get into that job without going into something like the police. Stories would not be so easy. Mycroft went through 'Frankenstein', 'The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde' or even some of Edgar Allan Poe's detective work. Although they all seemed a bit too old for a primary school child, although he did not doubt that Sherlock would enjoy those books.

"Mycroft!" Mycroft heard Mummy's voice calling and he quickly replied.

"Coming Mummy!" He said, raising his voice slightly so she could hear him. Finishing getting changed, he hurried downstairs and into the living room, where Sherlock had a pile of books and was studying the blurbs intently. Mummy say in a chair, reading a letter.

"I have been given a letter from Sherlock's teacher saying that he is exceptionally bright for his age. And just now I have had a phone call from your teachers suggesting that you have been holding back and suggesting that you will excell in private school. The same thing is suggested for Sherlock." She said, looking at the boy who had moved onto a different blurb, carefully putting the books into different piles. Mycroft guessed that they would be: Probably to read, possible to read and unlikely to read.

"Sherlock is very clever for his age and is not afraid to show it. I prefer attemtping to appear similar in development to my classmates." Mycroft replied.

"I will discuss this with your father, with luck we will be able to afford private schooling, but if not, grammar is an option. But how would you feel about changing schools?" Mummy asked.

"I think Sherlock will do better in a private school. I think that both of us would do better in private education, it would be easier to use our full potent." Mycroft said. He had spent a lot of work getting to the prime position he was in within school. But private school would offer a better opotunity for the job he wished to get, and Sherlock definitely would thrive in a more intellegent and focused environment.

"Well, I will talk to your father an see what he thinks." Mummy said, after some thought.

"'Croft! 'Croft!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Yes, Sherly?" Mycroft asked, looking over to his younger brother who was triumphantly holding up a book. Evidentally he ahd found his next bed time story book.

"What have you chosen, Sherly?" Mycroft asked.

"'The Murders in Rue Morgue'" Sherlock replied.

"Are you sure, Sherly?" Asked Mummy, sounding rather horrified that Sherlock had picked such a book.

"Yes, it looks very interesting." Sherlock replied, Mycroft picked up the book and read the blurb, he had read the book before of course, but not studying it in a way to understand if it would be a good book for Sherlock.

"I believe it would be fine." Mycroft said.

"Yay!" Sherlock aid, jumping up and rushing to put the other books away before someone could suggest one of the others. Mycroft wondered how much influence he would be able to maintain over his younger brother's life and career choice. He doubted that Sherlock would go for anything conventinal, any way.

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**So there we have Chapter Ten and the rest of that day that I suspect that we will see.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed.**

**Anonymous, I'm really grateful for your review, my main worry is that I may not be able to keep the characters, especially considering that I am working with their childhood. And I do not aim to stop for a very long time. I know the ending already and that is a long way off from here.**

**Ripplerose, yes, Sherlock is out of touch. I've always imagined that he would have picked up his skills early but not being able to apply them correctly and thus leading to the gap between him and the rest of society. And Mycroft has always seemed to care for Sherlock, no matter what.**

**BloodyRosie, there will always be someone that Sherlock will be able to get on with, I'm sure of that. Or atleast there will be while he is small and cute and gets on well with Mycroft. And yes, Ellie was right, although Mycroft is brilliantly socially, I've never considered him (or Sherlock for that matter) too good at raising someone. While someone average would probably be much better.**

**Larahna Steadyblade, I'm glad you find this realistic. Often I'm trying to remember what things were like when I was that age and then applying that to where I am now and then attempting to link it then to Sherlock and trace it back to see how he was then, and the same for Mycroft. Also having a younger brother myself makes it slightly easier for tracing back, but at times I have to make larger links between their shown adults selves and their children selves you see in this story.**

**PotterSherlocketc, I will keep writing for a long time with this fanfic, it has to be one of my favirotes to write. I enjoy exploring Sherlock and Mycroft's lives. Fortunately I do not cry when writing, but some of the times I do stop and jsut think: 'Aww'.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Well, my muse did not strike until today and I managed to write everything apart from the first sentence today. That just goes to show how strange muse can be. **

**But I'm glad to get the next chapter up and thak you everyone for putting up with my terrible skills of updating.**

**I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK, IT IS THE PROPERTYY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Eleven**

Sherlock and Mycroft sat, waiting for an interview with the headmaster of the private school that they were possibly being enrolled in. They had been travelling since lunch time and Sherlock was extremely sleepy. His head rested on Mycroft's shoulder as he dozed off. In the car, the younger boy had been resting his head on Mycroft's lap. Mycroft himself did not meantion the fact to his little brother whenever Sherlock briefly awoke and looked around dazed before sucumbing back to his slumbers. During the journey Mycroft had gone through what would be the cause of him changing schools. After a few minutes he came to the assumption that it had been his hurried and correct work at lunch time.

The idea of going to a private school was good, Mycroft knew that Sherlock would thrieve, but the only one they had found that they could attend would leave the boys as borders, although they could go home on the weekend. The journey would only be half an hour by train when it would be a few hours by car. Mycroft was determined to make sure that he and Sherlock would share a room, atleast until Sherlock was a little bit older and could cope with other people.

The headmaster came out of his office and Daddy stood up to greet the man. Mycroft noticed the chalk on the man's otherwise spotless grey jacket, the headmaster also taught. To Mycroft it was clear that he taught Physics, but sometimes branched out into Chemistry. The man was very neat, though and could be rather fussy. He was able to indulge his preferences because of the amount of money that he made from being the headmaster of a private school.

"Mr and Mrs Holmes." He greeted Mycroft's parents who had just stood up.

"And you must be young Mycroft Holmes, and this delightful, yet sleepy, young chap must be the young Sherlock that I've heard so much about." The headmaster said, turned to Mycroft.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, sir." Mycroft said politely, holding out his hand. In this situation it was best to appear someone they wanted to join. Sherlock had an almost certain place because of his outstanding achievements in his first day. Still, even Sherlock would need to make an impression and Mycroft knew now that social interactions were not his brother's strong points. Sherlock stired as Mycroft shook the headmaster's hand, and his large blue eyes stared up at the man.

"Are you Mr Emerick, the headmaster of the school that has proper Maths lessons?" The boy asked sleepily, sitting up. Mycroft could tell that Sherlock wasn't completely awake. If he had been, his younger brother would not have asked, instead he would have just pointed it out.

"Yes, and you must be young master Sherlock." Mr Emerick replied, holding his hand out. Sherlock examined it briefly, his eyes lingering on the small silvery grey marks on the man's hand before shaking it and looking over to Mycroft.

"What do those marks mean?" He asked, the headmaster looked bemused and Mycroft realised that this was one of those moments where he would have to take the limelight and show off infront of others. Personally, Mycroft was fine leaving those moments to Sherlock, even though it turned out that his younger brother would leap at any oppotunity to show off.

"They are from acid chemicals, such as silver nitrate. They posses a corrosive ability that can leave said marks for a day or two. Sometimes longer, it depends on the strength of the acid and the length of contact amoung other factors." Mycroft informed Sherlock.

"I thought he was a Maths teacher." Sherlock replied, pointing at the slip of paper that was poking out of the grey.

"No, those are Physics equations, although Physics is linked quite heavily to Maths." Mycroft replied.

"Physics?" Asked Sherlock.

"Yes, the study of space comes into Physics. But also forces, light and matter."

"Doesn't sound-" Mycroft realised that Sherlock was going to say 'too interesting' and decided to prevent his brother from finishing his sentence.

"I know that you find anything linked to Maths fun, but Physics is not considered to be 'not too hard'. It is in fact a complicated subject." Mycroft interjected. Sherlock looked briefly confused and slightly hurt, before giving a tiny nod that none of the others caught, showing that he understood.

"Well, that was very impressive. You seem to know a lot, young Mycroft Holmes, and Master Sherlock seems to be very eager to learn. And I am sure when he does reach physics lessons he will not disappoint. After all, Mathematics is the basis of Physics." Mr Emerick said, jumping in. Mycroft did not miss how he was 'young Mycroft Holmes' and his brother was 'Master Sherlock'. The headmaster did not know what to expect of Mycroft just yet.

"Thank you sir, I hope you do not mind." Mycroft replied.

"No, not at all. I am impressed that you managed to identify that this was Physics, not Mathematics, though. Would you mind enlightening me on the subject."

"Not at all, sir. You have _c _written down on the paper and used in the way that _c_ would be used in Physics; equations that require the speed of light through a vacuum. As well as that, you have the symbol for wave length, which is the Greek lowercase 'L', also known as Lambda." Mycroft noticed the suprise on his parents faces at his explination. Even though at home he did not hide how much he knew, aparently they had not realised the full extent.

"Are you planning to become a Physicist, young man?" Asked the headmaster.

"I am interested in Classical Civilisation and Politics, but that does not limit what I study." Mycroft replied truthfully.

"Politics, at your age?" Suprise was obvious in the older man's tone and Mycroft kept his face impassive.

"Yes, the use of language to manipulate speach and the structure of government are facinating. The history of politcs is also another thing that interests me."

"Well, we have a debating club as well as many O Level options that should include politcs, not to meantion the A Level courses. Are you a fan of debating?"

"I've never had the chance, but I would certainly be interested in attending this debating club, as long as it will not interfere with my lessons." Mycroft replied, he knew that he needed to win over the headmaster, not just for him, but for his more social awkard brother. It was always on the front of Mycroft's mind.

"I'm sure a bright boy like you will have no problem giving up a lunch time for a good old debate. And don't worry, lunch time clubs have their own fresh from the oven food." Although Mycroft did not show it, the older brother was certainy interested now in the offer of joining the club.

"Mycroft likes food." Sherlock muttered, and Mycroft realised that his younger brother was feeling neglected as he hadn't been included in the conversation for a while.

"Most growing boys do. And what about you, Master Sherlock, what are you interested in, other than the fine subject of Mathematics." Mr Emerick asked.

"I don't really know. They did show us many interesting things at school. The English was boring and simple as well but I do enjoy listening to books. I want to be a Private Investigator."

"Do you know what Private Investigator is?" Everyone had been shocked by Sherlock's revelation apart from Mycroft, who had deduce not too many days ago that this fitted Sherlock's list of things he wanted to do.

"Yes, they are like detectives only they work outside the police. So they don't have any advantage over the villian, they are playing on equal terms." Sherlock replied, his gaze meeting the headmaster's.

"Indeed, and do you know what you will need to study?" He asked. Mycroft noted that the headmaster seemed to have forgotten that an interview was meant to be conducted in his office. This appeared to be good, it suggested that he was impressed enough to not want to pause in his conversation. Sherlock had reached what appeared to be a dead end as he thought.

"Literature, because things are repeated, and History." He finally said, rather slowly. "And sciences involving the body, natural... or organic materical and... and chemicals?" His answer slowly turned into a question as his gaze moved to land on Mycroft.

"Chemistry and Biology as well, you mean." Mycroft sid and Sherlock nodded.

"Those." Now he was certain.

"I'm impressed that you already know what you want to do and have a pretty good idea of what you need to study. Mycoft, you will need to sit an entrance exam, but I am sure that you will pass, and if you don't want to sit it, I may be able to bend the rules..." The headmaster now spoke to Mycroft, and the older brother shook his head.

"I am fine taking the exam, you need to know where I currently am with my education." He replied.

"Well, I can accept Master Sherlock as he is. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?" The headmaster turned to look at the boys' parents who shook there heads, but Mycroft spoke up.

"My brother and I will have to board during the week days. I would like to ask if we could share a room. At least until he is older."

"I'm sure that we can fit that in. It should be no problem." Mycroft rose and shook Mr Emerick's hand once again and Sherlock followed his older brother's example. Then, they were taken around the school. They were staying overnight at the school as well and Mycroft had the entrance exam tomorrow, he was told. The boys shared a room that night and as they settled down to bed, Mycroft heard Sherlock's sleepy voice.

"Why couldn't I tell him that Physics sounded boring?"

"Because you want him to let you have interesting Maths lessons, Sherly. He likes Physics and if you offended him, he might not like you as much." Mycroft replied, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

"Oh, okay." And Mycroft heard nothing more from his younger brother until the next day.

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**So there we have it, I hope you enjoyed the update and I'll try get another update before school starts.**

**Thank you everyone for your reviews.**

**Guest, I am really glad that you are enjoying this fanfic and I'm glad that you like my insight into the relationship between the two Holmes brothers, it is always one of the things which have interested me, especially as I have a younger brother. I'm building up to something big which originally inspired this fanfic, but I'm nowhere near close to that, so there should be a lot more comming up in the future. And that big thing that I'm building up to won't even be the end, as I have more planned.**

**BloodyRosie, well, we've started to get into changing schools and I'm not entirely sure how Sherlock is going to cope, although Mycroft is a definite within my mind. Sherlock should continue to be cute for a while longer and hopefully he will get more subjects that he is interested in. **

**Eldar-Melda, I agree, the two boys are the smartest minds in England, if not the world. And it did take a while for Mycroft's genius to be recognised because of his genius of hidding it to fit in with others. Now the boys will have a chance to begin to specialise some more in the sujects they are interested in, and I'm sure that they will be noticed even more as they continue to progress.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**Please review/comment!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, I will not make any promises about regular updates. I now have College and unfortunately it is taking more of my time than expected.**

**But I will attempt to keep updating as much as my muse will allow me and I am really hoping to get up to my big turning point in Sherlock's life which should hopefully be a day spanned over several chapters.**

**But that is enough of me rambling, I hope you enjoy this update!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK IT IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC.**

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**Chapter Twelve**

"'Croft, why do you keep insist on trying to get the other children to interact with me. You know they are inferior. They can't even see." The nine year old boy complained as he lay down on his bed. The sixteen year old Mycroft sat perched on his own bed, sucking on a sweet. Mycroft only had a few months left before he departed for university. In this environment he had been able to thrive and go through his classes and pass his O Levels easily before moving onto A Levels. Most people his age would now be finishing their O Levels, the eldest Holmes brother was ahead by two years. Sometimes he considered it a shame that Sherlock was not ahead of his class. The boy's promise did not apply with all subjects and soon it became clear that he would not participate in subjects he deemed worthless. Which was to say a lot of them.

"Sherly, when I leave they will assign you to another, I would prefer it if I knew I could trust that person." Mycroft looked at Sherlock's young eyes as the boy sat up, Mycroft knew that Sherlock was sad by his brother's soon departure. The school had been kind enough to let him stay until University started. Mother and Father were on holiday at the moment, anyway, and Sherlock had kicked up a fuss about going.

"I can cope." The boy replied. "I just don't need to hang around people who are clearly not as intelligent as me." Mycroft was sure that Sherlock could be in Year Seven, or maybe even Year Eight if he tried, by the boy was far too focused to allow him to move up.

"Sherlock, if you keep getting into fights, I'm not sure how I can feel safe leaving you here without someone to look after you." True Mycroft had enlisted the help of friends the same age as him to keep an eye on Sherlock. They would be staying on to do their A-Levels and Mycroft had promised to help them with their homework via the new thing called the internet.

"I can look after myself." Sherlock muttered and Mycroft left his bed to give his younger brother a hug. Sherlock did not push Mycroft away, but seemed slightly awkward for a second before relaxing and hugging his brother back.

"I care for you Sherly, I don't want you to get hurt. We've never spent any time away apart from the occasional times that I have had sleep overs." Sherlock never attempted to make any friends and even when he did have friends - who Sherlock just called acquaintances - they never invited him around, not even for afternoon tea.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me." Sherlock said, looking out the window, Mycroft sighed. He had avoided this topic. For the past few months Sherlock had been practicing hiding his wounds from boxing.

"Do you want me to apply any salve to your wounds?" Mycroft asked, gesturing to Sherlock's back, where he had been scrapped against the wall. A fresh jacket hid the marks, but by the new jacket and previous wounds, Mycroft could guess that it was from an incident when Sherlock was pressed against the wall. More recently, Sherlock had been able to keep attacks away from his face, but there was a bruise against his cheek, covered with some make-up that he had obviously managed to pickpocket from some girl.

"And what have I told you about stealing?" Mycroft added, raising an eyebrow.

"In my defense I did return it, she won't notice that anything had happened." Sherlock replied, but he slipped off his jacket and Mycroft winced as he saw red against the thin white fabric of Sherlock's shirt. Wordlessly, the older brother got the salve from the bathroom. When he returned Sherlock was facing the wall, back bear, leaving the wound open to the air. It was a bad graze and Mycroft could see the white blood cells that pooled out in their vast quantities, smoothing over the red blood cells. Sighing, Mycroft rubbed the salve into Sherlock's skin, feeling the young boy tense as the cold medicine touched his sensitive skin.

"Are you going to keep out of fights when I leave?" Mycroft asked, looking at Sherlock, when he had finished applying the salve. Sherlock turned and watched Mycroft with his cold gaze while he pulled on a fresh shirt and buttoned up the front.

"I don't go looking for them." The younger boy replied.

"I know that, but they find you anyway."

"Today I stopped a young girl from loosing her teddy bear." Sherlock muttered after a long pause. "I managed to distract their attentions from her and return her pointless toy. Each time I stop someone defenseless getting hurt or robbed and you have nothing good to say about it. I want to work against crime, surely I cannot be punished because of that!"

"Sherly, these are not the sort of things you will be stopping if you do become a Private Investigator. You would report them in and tell the teachers clues to which groups and areas to look out for." Mycroft said, turning to look at Sherlock.

"Can we play with my chemistry kit?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject. Last time it was Sherlock's birthday, Mycroft had gotten his brother a chemistry kit, even though Sherlock was too young to use it. Mycroft did most of the work and Sherlock helped.

"As long as you feel up for it." Mycroft smiled.

)~*O*~~*O*~~*O*~~*O*~(

Sherlock watched as his brother got into a taxi and disappeared in the early morning. Now he was truly alone and he realised almost immediately how much he missed Mycroft, how much he had come to depend on his older brother.

"You okay?" Came a voice, Sherlock didn't bother to look at his new room mate. A brother of one of Mycroft's friends. After a few seconds, Sherlock heard the boy come closer.

"I said are you okay?" He asked, more impatiently.

"Actually you said 'you okay', that is not a correct question. But in answer, I am fine, my body is functioning adequately and I should not need to eat for another twenty four hours." Sherlock replied, turning away from the window.

"Twenty four hours?" The newcomer asked, clearly shocked.

"Yes, unlike everyone else I don't need to eat as frequently. It slows down the brain and I have trained my body to cope with the demands my brain makes. Before I started I used to only last a day or two without eating." Sherlock commented, staring out the window at the road that Mycroft had disappeared down.

"You miss your brother." The boy commented. Sherlock decided not to answer that.

"Don't you?" The boy asked when several minutes had passed.

"You don't need to make small talk and I am fine without Mycroft. He had to leave and it would not be logical for me to be affected by that. Besides, I will see him when Christmas comes." Sherlock said, taking in the form of his new room mate for the first time. The boy was into chemistry, but rather clumsy, he had asthma and Sherlock thought that it was possible that he might be on the autistic spectrum, but only barely. Clearly Mycroft was trying to do his best to get Sherlock aquatinted with more people and society in generally. Taking out a piece of paper, Sherlock started a letter.

Mycroft,

I hope you are doing fine at University. I must confess that I feel slightly insulted that you believe that I have autism in any form.

Sherlock crossed that out and threw it into the bin. Then, on a second thought he picked it up and burned it. No point letting his roommate get any ideas. If he deduction was correct, which it was, the boy may want to talk to him more frequently on the assumption that Mycroft had been correct.

The new roommate was still standing there, watching everything silently. Sherlock shot him another uninterested glance. It appeared the boy was waiting for Sherlock to say something

"You may unpack your things. Just keep everything as neat as possible. Do not attempt to disturb me. At any point. Even if you are dying, I won't care. Unless you've bee murdered, then I might consider to catch the criminal if you have been favorable." Sherlock said. With that the boy unpacked and Sherlock was delighted to see the boy had order to his things and kept everything in as small a place as possible. But the young boy didn't let on how he was feeling.

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**There we have it, Sherlock is now to make his own way in the world.**

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!**

**KaitlenPotter, I'm glad you like it, I aim to please. **

**UnifiedNations, it makes me happy to know that people view my story as awesome and I hope it can continue to be awesome.**

**Marketeerbubbles, thank your for your review, I'm glad you are finding it wonderful. I will do my best to keep it that way.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**Please leave a comment/review, they really help :) **


	13. Chapter 13

**Another chapter about teh great Sherlock Holmes!**

**This is a Holmes Christmas Eve and focuses more on Sherlock than Mycroft. But I plan to have some Mycroft chapters coming up as well.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: SHERLOCK IS THE PROPERTY OF THE BBC, I DO NOT OWN IT.**

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**Chapter Thirteen**

Sherlock sat by the tree, staring out the window. Tomorrow was Christmas and today Mycroft was meant to visit.

"Sherlock, do you want to play Backgammon?" Father asked, as he came into the room. Sherlock's father didn't want to admit it, but he was worried about Sherlock. Only two days after Sherlock had returned from school he had taken up residence only where he could see the front of the house. He even slept in the guest bedroom to make sure that he would be able to catch Mycroft if he was early. This meant that Sherlock was getting less sleep, the boy couldn't sleep well with the disturbance of cars. Sherlock's father and mother had both caught him looking out the window in the dead of night as the cars came by. They knew Sherlock missed Mycroft, the older Holmes brother had been unable to visit during the half term and Sherlock had been disappointed. Sherlock also didn't cope well with change.

"Maybe later." Sherlock said, still staring out the window.

"But you are the only one who stands a chance of beating me." Sherlock's father sighed, starting to set up the board.

"Stands a chance?" Sherlock asked, laughter creeping through his voice. Or maybe it was scorn. Sometimes it wasn't too easy to tell what Sherlock was trying to attempt to portray now days. When he acted he could do anything and you would believe him. But when it came to his own feelings they were often held close to his chest.

"Yes, you know your mother is more into the Classics and English. I need someone with a good sense of Mathematics. Maybe even just a basic sense if you are too worried." Sherlock knew that his father was manipulating him, but he gave in.

"My Mathematics is perfectly fine, I'm sure that my chance of winning is ninety five percent." Sherlock replied, helping to set out the game, his movements quick, snatching pieces from his father's hands as he laid everything out. He didn't want to miss Mycroft's return. It had been a whole half a year!

"Sherlock, be patient." Father said as he closed his hand around the last piece while Sherlock's hand eagerly stretched out for it. The boy paused, his pale hand out stretched for a second, fingers extended. For a second confusion was on Sherlock's face as he tried to puzzle out why his father was making him wait. Then his hand withdrew and his face became blank. Slowly his father placed the piece down on the board and the game began. Only a minute into the game, Sherlock froze and looked out the window intently. A car had slowed down near the drive way. Bright blue eyes looked at it with interest that hadn't died down over the days he had been here. But then it moved on, it had only slowed down to let a family cross the road. The boy sighed and turned his attention back to the game. Every few minutes, though, Sherlock was distracted. But not to distracted to miss his father pick up a piece and move it. Sherlock returned the piece.

"Why are you playing backgammon with me. It isn't that you can't play against Mother, she is able to play. It's not as if you can't wait for Mycroft to come." Sherlock asked.

"Can't I want to spend some quality time with my youngest son?" Asked Father in surprise.

"You never seemed that keen on Mycroft or me. Especially me. When I was younger I felt like you resented me." Sherlock said, unaware that he was going into delicate territories that would best be left alone. The boy rolled and came up with a three and a two. He moved two pieces that had been next to each other so that they were on top of each other. He could have taken one of Father's pieces.

"Why do you think that?" Sherlock's father rolled and got two threes, he moved two pieces together at the same time, although he too could have taken one of Sherlock's pieces. Sherlock rolled and came up with a four and a six, he stared at the board for a while, ignoring the phone as it rang out and the change in his mother's voice only a few seconds after she answered it.

"When I was younger I read some of your papers and you have always seem less keen on me, as if you were worried that I might do something." Sherlock said, beginning to move his pieces.

"Sherlock, the phone call is for you." Mother's voice floated in. Sherlock returned his pieces to their position and went to answer the phone.

"Hello, Sherlock Holmes speaking." He said as he took the phone.

"Sherly!" It was Mycroft's voice and the dark haired boy's heart fell.

"You can't come." The boy said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"I'm really busy, I've got a lot of work to keep up with. And travel is practically impossible. The snow has stopped the trains. I keep getting wet because of the bad weather where I am. I should have brought a coat." Mycroft seemed cheerful, but Sherlock bit his lip as his eyes started to burn, he closed them tightly to stop it.

"Is University interesting enough for you?" He asked after a moment.

"Yes and I'm managing to get along with the people as well. I've even managed to get a spot of work experience within the government. But how about you? Has school been keeping you entertained?"

"Still not interesting for me. But they are starting to catch up with my level, if only because I'm unable to go to the library to read books." Sherlock replied.

"Why is that?" Mycroft asked, the older brother's attention was extremely apparent.

"I got into a fight with the librarian." Sherlock muttered.

"Sherly!" Mycroft said, his voice still calm but raised slightly. "I don't believe you are telling me the whole story."

"I was offended with people folding of over the pages to mark their spot and not borrowing the book then bookmarking it. So I told them off when they did that. Then they complained and started saying bad things about me and the librarian followed them up. I told the truth but she said too many people had complained about me 'lording over the library and dictating what everyone does'." Sherlock quoted, staring at the ground. He had wanted to seek justice, but he didn't know how. He settled with thinking about how they would fail in life and not do as well as they hoped.

"I'll speak to her. You should have told me in your letters." Mycroft said.

"You never reply." Sherlock said, his eyes pricked with hot needles and and he clenched his fist.

"Oh, Sherly..." Mycroft sounded sad and Sherlock wanted to regret what he had said.

"I'm afraid I have been very busy. Maybe if this internet became cheaper and you could therefore have access to it. It is a fast way of sending letters, you know." Mycroft said.

"I... please can you write back?" Sherlock said, trying to not sound like he was going to cry.

"I will try, Sherly, but I am very busy." Mycroft's voice sounded strained.

"Then will you call?" Sherlock demanded, hoping that Mycroft would say yes, not talk about being busy.

"I will try, but I can't make any promises." Mycroft said.

"Okay." Sherlock said, looking at his feet.

"Have a Merry Christmas, Sherly."

"And a happy new year." Sherlock said softly, before handing the phone to his mother's out stretched hand.

Sherlock walked back to where his father was waiting for the rest of the game. Looking at his rolled numbers again, Sherlock regarded the board. Then he took two of his father's pieces while getting one of his home. The rest of the game was played ruthlessly by the young boy and it wasn't long until he won.

"Well done, Sherly." Father said, Sherlock looked at his father, his expression uninterested.

"It was not difficult. I use harder games to help me sleep." Sherlock said, standing and starting to walk away.

"You don't want a rematch?" Father asked.

"No."

"And you don't want to talk about Mycroft's phone call?"

"No."

With that, Sherlock left the room, leaving the door open and slowly climbing up the stairs, thinking about each movement. This time he went into his own room, instead of the guest bedroom. Silently, the boy looked out the window and into the back garden. Mycroft wasn't visiting for Christmas. Already his life had become dreadful. Everyone was so slow and yet he couldn't insult them for that. Even worse was that people insulted him for being disinterested in some subjects. Didn't they see anything? Mycroft had understood and although his roommate was okay, he was nothing like Sherlock's brother.

Sighing, Sherlock sat down at his desk, fingers tapping away.

"Bored." Sherlock said, as the tapping became faster and more to a pattern. He needed something to entertain his mind. Not simple games like Backgammon or cards. Shooting up to his feet once more, Sherlock started pacing. This wasn't good. He felt hurt that Mycroft wasn't here, he had been anticipating his brother's return. He shouldn't have done that, gotten his hopes up. Sherlock didn't scream in annoyance, or throw things. He just paced, thinking. Usually Mycroft always made time for him, Sherlock was used to that. So why not now? Did work take precedence of Sherlock himself? Did Mycroft think that he should be able to cope? Stopping suddenly, Sherlock turned to the violin and started to play some quick tunes to warm himself up and help his disjointed thoughts. Then he practiced some Christmas songs. Originally he had wanted to show off his new skill to Mycroft, but he might as well show his parents if Mycroft was not here.

"Sherlock, its diner time." Mother said, Sherlock looked at the door, unaware that so much time had passed.

"I'm not hungry." The boy replied, looking up from the music.

"You missed lunch as well." She said softly.

"I didn't realise you called for lunch." Sherlock said, coldly, working on getting the next few notes of the song.

"Are you composing again, our young Bach?" Mother asked, moving to sit on Sherlock's bed, which had a plain blue duvet.

"Yes, although I aim to be closer to Mozart." Sherlock wasn't in the best of moods and so he was attempting to be the best he could possible be.

"Always aim as high as you can, Sherly. But I'm sure Mozart ate." Mother said. Sighing, Sherlock put down his violin.

"Must I?" He asked, annoyed.

"You missed lunch and I would rather you hadn't."

"Why didn't you call me then?"

"We thought that you might need to time with your thoughts. You've always been a more thoughtful person. But the brain needs fuel."

"That's what everyone says."

"Come on Sherly, you are smart. You know that food is needed for your body to work."

"Fine." Sherlock slipped past his mother and out of the room, heading down the stairs, making no sound at all as he moved. Moving into the dinning room, Sherlock glared at the food, before sitting down.

"Not too hungry, Sherly?" His father asked.

"Food is unimportant." The boy murmured, not moving to help himself. Instead his father decided to help Sherlock to some food. Sherlock's parents talked while he pushed his food around on his plate, taking a few mouthfuls. Christmas seemed less promising without Mycroft to share it with. This would be his first ever Christmas without Mycroft.

"Are you feeling okay, Sherlock?" Asked his father, breaking away.

"I'm just not hungry." The boy muttered.

"You're not coming down with anything?" His mother asked worried and Sherlock sighed heavily, letting a great huff of air escape his lips.

"If I were ill you would know about it." He commented coldly, shoving another small mouthful of food into his mouth and chewing slowly so he wouldn't be required to speak for a bit.

"I'm sure Mycroft will visit as soon as he can." Mother said and Sherlock wanted to glare. He glanced around at his parents plates and saw that they were empty.

"I'm not allowed to go until I've eaten, am I?" The black haired boy asked.

"We let you skip lunch and weren't happy with that decision. What do you think?" Father asked and Sherlock shoved a few more mouthfuls into his mouth and started chewing quickly.

"You'll get hiccups if you eat too quickly." Mother pointed out and Sherlock shrugged and hurriedly ate the rest of his dinner before getting up and leaving the table.

"I'm going to bed. I'm tired." He announced, before rushing up the stairs, brushing his teeth and sitting down in his room, the lamp turned on. After he was sure that no one would come to disturb him, Sherlock moved to his draws and took out a heavy book. It was one of Mycroft's A Level books. The subject interested Sherlock and so Mycroft had given Sherlock the book as a present once the course was finished. Carefully holding it, Sherlock sat on his bed and read.

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**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Thank you to everyone who read or reviewed.**

**Eldar-Melda, thank you for your review, I always look forward to them. I think that more of the chapters might be a little sad from now on, but I do aim to get some happy ones in as well. I think Mycroft is either in Oxford or Cambridge University and there is no way that he would miss out on the experience. With time the relationship between Sherlock and Mycroft shall change to match with what we see in the present.**

**Emily, I'm glad you enjoy this fanfic and I will try to update as often as possible.**

**Thank you for reading,**

**Please Review/Comment**


	14. Chapter 14

**I am so sorry for the massive delay! I guess that the ends of GCSEs got the better of me and then the holidays and my muse. **

**But here I have the reason why I first started to write this story. **

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**Chapter Fourteen**

Sherlock stared at the box that rested in his dorm. It was wrapped in bright wrapping paper and nearly as big as himself. It was 5:30 am and his newest roommate was fast asleep. It seemed that he went through a new companion every half term and the dark haired boy knew it was only a matter of time until they gave up giving him new companions. Silently, Sherlock walked with stealth and carefully lifted the box up. There was the sound of something rolling inside it and he froze, casting an icy gaze at his dorm-mate: he hadn't even stirred.

Slowly, Sherlock moved towards the door, opening it and slipping out into the corridor. He didn't need to worry about the security cameras. They would not check them until later on and by that point it would be too late. Carrying the box through the building, Sherlock finally managed to get out of the school without disturbing any of the residents. It was difficult but nothing was too much of a problem for Sherlock Holmes. He had been planning this for months.

It was silent on the road and Sherlock knew he didn't have enough money to catch a cab to the station anyway. Lifting the box to his other arm, face set in determination, Sherlock walked carefully only the pavement, glad that it was Spring. Despite the time of the year, the early morning held a chill to it and if he had done this in the winter it would have been much worse. Still, there were always difficulties in everything that one did. This needed to be timed perfectly. It was rush hour when he would have the best chance to get the train and fortunately the walk was nearly one hour. That was when the influx of people arriving at the station started and all Sherlock had to do was to remain unnoticed for about half an hour before walking towards the ticket office.

"One return ticket to London, please." He declared, looking up at the face of the man. Three grandchildren, father of two, been divorced twenty years, worked in a charity shop.

"Why am I going to give a ticket to a little boy?"

"My Father went through earlier but forgot his present for my Uncle. I'm faster than he is and ran home. He went on ahead to see if he could keep the train back if it came too early or if I was too late."

"Am I supposed to believe that." The man said, raising an eyebrow.

"Surely you must have noticed my father, tall, top hat, suit?" Sherlock asked, after having looked out for distinctive people heading into the Station and likely to be heading to London.

"He's your father?"

"Yes, can't you see the family height in me?" The man leaned forward and took in Sherlock's form.

"Shall I give him the overhead announcement and ask him to come and collect you?"

"If you want sir, but he left me the money." Sherlock replied, perfectly calmly. There was a slight pause and then the man sighed and got out a ticket.

"That's seven pounds fifty." He replied and Sherlock handed over the money, waiting for the change which he received and then pocketed. With that the boy went to catch the train, slipping on and silently waiting on a seat, clutching his box. The journey would be several hours long and by the time he arrived, the boy was certain that school would have noticed his absence. The journey was fairly boring but several interesting people joined the carriage. Most eyes Sherlock with concern and confusion but other than that, Sherlock met no problems.

Finally arriving in London, the boy half pulled, half carried the box out with him and made his way towards the exit, trailing a family with a girl who was taking her time. That way he managed to appear to be part of the family and so no one bothered to stop the boy as he made his way out of the Station and into the city. Already he knew the directions. He had studied a map during the cover on night and knew the paths even better than the back of his own hand.

Again more strange looks were given to Sherlock and he had to deal with a slight problem with getting into the University where Mycroft was staying but sneaking into places was something that he had been practicing. Now to find Mycroft's dorm. It had been difficult to get that information out of Mycroft from his last call but the dark haired boy had managed that. Finding the right door, Sherlock knocked, awaiting a reply. This was going to be a great birthday surprise for his brother! But no reply came and Sherlock assumed that Mycroft was in a lesson. Leaning against the wall, the scrawny boy clutched the present and settled down to wait and as the hours went by, the head of dark curls slowly began to droop until he was just a small, sleeping form in a corridor.

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**-Ice Jazz Elleth**


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